


lost & found (in the hues of moonlight)

by TheBashfulPoet



Series: Andreil Week 2019 [8]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Andreil Week 2019, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Gratuitous use of TJ Klune types of repetition, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Werewolves, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-06-28 10:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBashfulPoet/pseuds/TheBashfulPoet
Summary: Neil Josten has been running for longer than he can remember. With his mother dead and his father's men hounding his every step, Neil is on his last leg trying to keep his head afloat. Andrew Minyard is bored with life. Bored of his brother not keeping his deal. Bored with Kevin hounding about being more. Bored and counting the seconds until it will all be over. When these two crash together, their lives would inexplicably change as they find themselves drawn to the other for reasons neither can understand. But to Neil Andrew smells of safety and home, the two things he never thought he could have and the things he craves more than anything. To Andrew, Neil is his and no one will tear him away now that he's found him.Andreil Week Day 8: Werewolf Au





	1. I smell you in the wind & taste blood on my tongue (pt. 1)

**Author's Note:**

> It's here! The mystery project for Day 8 of Andreil week!!
> 
> Every work that I have put out for this fandom has either been a oneshot or a fully completed multichapter I had done and posted in a day. I really missed working with a story still in the process of being written as I get to interact with you guys. There is just something about hearing your guy's thoughts and opinions as the story progresses that makes writing it so much fun. So I thought what better way to close Andreil Week 2019 than with a new project to keep the celebration going! 
> 
> So welcome to the first part of my newest WIP.
> 
> Song: [Dazed & Confused - Ruel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SutHkFEgLq4)

Run.

That’s the only thing Neil thinks as he tears through a crowd of people — as his feet slap against the sidewalk pavement in a frantic rhythm of run run run run. It’s the only thing keeping him going at his point. Because if he stops then his body will collapse in on itself.

His skin is already torn to ribbons beneath his clothes, each hanging only by the barest thread as his blood soaks the cloth clinging around the wounds. Every breath he draws in wheezes in his lungs and constricts his chest, making him think that a rib punctured a lung which wouldn’t worry him if not for the fact that he thinks said rib is constantly repuncturing his damn lung every time he breathes. Yet he can only push on and hope his lungs hold out long enough for him to get away because if he slows it is only a matter of time before he’s caught.

Even know he can sense Lola and Romero on his tail, smell her sickeningly sweet scent of roses from the perfume she likes to wear mixed in with the rusted earthy smell of blood that always accompanies her twin even when his hands were clean. Neil has to fight to keep himself in the present. To keep himself from falling back into that house of brick and blood and into the little boy too frightened to move.

_Stay still, Junior. If you flinch, I might just slip and hit something important._

He shakes his head, clearing the image and tries centering himself with facts like his mother taught him — focusing on the details he knows are real rather than the memories threatening to swallow him whole. He’s in Columbia, not Baltimore. He is 20 years old not 10. His mother is dead, and he has been on his own for three years. He is not in that house.

_Junior._

He is not in that house. Not not not not not not.

The scent of roses gets stronger and he panics.

_Run. Run. Run. Run._

Blinded by desperation, he ducks into the nearest building, slipping through a crowd of people too drunk to notice the claw marks raking down the front of his chest and shoulder or the limp in his step as he slides through the door. He flips the lock the moment the door clicks shut behind him, not because he thinks it will stop Lola, but to buy him as much time as possible. Yet when he turns around to face the room, he can’t help but think he made a mistake in locking himself in.

The scent hits him first, a wall of sweat and perfume colliding with a thick cloud of smoke and stale alcohol, the pungent odor so powerful it makes him gag and cover his nose with his elbow. But even with the fabric of his shirt obscuring part of the scent, it only works so well against the onslaught of sensory overload. The room pounds with a heavy bass as the air vibrates and blares with some technological trash that only makes his head throb with the volume and grits his teeth against the vibrations it sends through him.

He contemplates turning back but the undercurrent scent of blood fills his nose and his body jerks from the door like it burned him. It doesn’t matter that rationally the blood he smells is probably his own or that stumbling further into the room in his current state was a dangerous as it was stupid, all that mattered was the need to _escape_. So, he does, gritting his teeth and pushing into the heart of the crowd pulsating in the center of the room on the dancefloor.

Bodies jostle and slide against his own, too many scents filling his senses while the music makes his head pound and his body ache. Flashing lights and smoke blind him and send him stumbling into others as they sashay and dance around him, faces carefree and twisted in laughter despite the growing desperation clawing in his lungs. Their hands pull at his clothing and skin, hands sliding down his arms, his chest, his back, his hair as they press closer and closer until he couldn’t breathe. He pushes and shoves and claws, but his body is weakened and slow. So, they pull him deeper and deeper in until Neil thinks he’s going to drown in it all.

Then he smells it. Vanilla and tobacco and _safety_.

He latches onto the scent, letting it fill him with a strength he didn’t feel possible — lets it give him the power to push and claw his way free of the hands and fingers latching themselves to him and suffocating the air from his lungs. People cry out as his fingers dig into their skin and scratch and claw against their bodies and digs his way free. A couple try to yank him back, curses spewing from their tongue, but he could care less, not with the edges of the crowd just in sight. So, he kicks and claws and scratches and yanks himself free.

When he breaks free, his lungs draw in their first full breath of air and he could cry from relief at how good it tastes on his tongue. But he can’t stop — the need to keep moving stronger than ever. He had to get to that scent, had to reach the vanilla and tobacco and safety, the knowledge of it almost primal. Vanilla and tobacco and safety safety safety safety.

But where is it? Where where where where

He searches, blindly, desperately, hungrily, shoving people aside for that salvation.

Run. Safety. Where.

His vision blurs and his body begins curling in on itself from blood loss and pain and he knows he’s out of time. But he has to keep moving. Has to search.

Where where where

Then he collides into something solid, face smooshing into the planes of a muscular back and stopping his momentum dead in its tracks. He stumbles back, head spinning and feet tripping over themselves and sending him tumbling towards the ground if not for the strong set of arms that steady him before he can dip too low. Before he can straighten himself up, he’s hit with the scent. Roses and rust.

His mind fills with danger danger danger and run run run and he struggles against the arms holding him. But they don’t release him, they pull him closer, hold him tighter until he’s almost nose to nose with his captor.

“ _Calm down_ ,” the man growls, hands tightening enough to keep him still but not enough to bruise or harm.

Neil’s eyes whip up to his captor’s but instead of the honey color of Lola’s or the onyx color of Romero’s, he sees twin orbs of green and brown with flecks of gold swimming in their pools and burning with an intensity that ignites a fire within his own chest. He gasps in surprise and in that sharp breath of air, he smells it.

Vanilla and tobacco, and safety.

He whimpers, the feeling of safe safe safe crashing against the danger danger danger until all he can do is cling to his salvation and say, “ _help_.”

Then his world goes black.


	2. I smell you in the wind & taste blood on my tongue pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew is irritated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha did I say a couple of days? I definitely meant almost a week... Oops? In my defense (and I know my beta is probably laughing at me rn) I didn't _mean_ to make it this long. It just happened, okay?
> 
> Anywho, enjoy part two! And please excuse any weird errors, this still isn't beta read, b/c my beta is busy and I promised to get this out asap.

Andrew is irritated. No, irritated didn’t begin to cover what Andrew felt anymore. Irritated was last week when Nicky spilled a drink on his leather seats; irritated was Wymack making him babysit the latest batch of welfare projects until Wilds got back from her mini vacation with Boyd. This? This was infuriating. And the worst part? He doesn’t even know _why_ he’s feeling this way.

At first he thought that perhaps a full moon was approaching — that maybe his wolf was just itching for a run like it normally does around the lunar cycle — but when he checked the calendar, the moon had a couple of weeks before it even started waxing back into full and his wolf _never_ got this anxious that far off. Next, he thought that he just needed to blow off some steam, maybe spend a little more time in the gym or sparring with Renee. After all, the new societal rejects were especially trying this time around — namely Jack and Sheena who apparently made it their lives’ mission to harass Nicky and insult him and his whenever they were in the same room. The only reason they are still alive is because Renee wisely pulls him into a sparring match when his wolf starts snarling and Wymack threatened them all with a triathlon if they started another fight on the grounds (Abby is still upset about the broken vases from the last one). But even fighting only took the edge off for so long before the agitation returned and he’s ready to sink his teeth into something.

Eventually, he decides that neither of those things set him off; it was the air. More specifically, it was a lingering scent that only stayed long enough to overload his senses before slipping away into oblivion. He didn’t know if it was a perfume Allison had bought or one of Renee’s candles, but he smelled it _everywhere_. It was as if his wolf was attuned to it no matter where he was or what he was doing (once he almost caused a pile-up on his way home from the grocery when he caught the scent through an open window and his body jerked with the need to find it). And of course, the most maddening part was that he _knew it_. He knew the scent at almost an instinctual level, but he could not _remember how_ he knew it or what it meant. It was like a word on the tip of his tongue that just wouldn’t spill over no matter how hard he tried to speak it.

After nearly a week of stalking and hunting around for the source of the mysterious scent, he decides it’s time for a trip to Edens, much to the relief of everyone at the manor. (Apparently, he’s been more “growly” than usual according to Nicky.) The prospect of a night free from the wolf’s agitation and a head hazy from copious amounts of alcohol proved enticing enough to wrangle his family together into his car and drive the half-hour it took to the club. After all, if the club’s packed nature and the potent cocktail of mingling scents weren’t enough to drown out the single scent that’s been driving him mad, then the alcohol would do the job just as well.

And so far it _had._ The whiskey dulled the sharp edges of his sense enough for his shoulders to relax and his wolf to settle in his chest calm and content. For the first time all week he was able to sit back and watch his family drink themselves into oblivion before scampering off into the crowd to dance and indulge. About halfway through the night, Andrew himself felt loose enough to maybe indulge a bit himself — the idea of pulling Roland into the back office to get off getting more and more appealing as the alcohol settled in his system and the hour got later. He cleared the table of empty glasses and readied the tray for a trip down the stairs when he smelled _it_.

It overpowered everything, the stale scent of alcohol and drugs, the hundred of sweat-slick bodies, the overwhelming stench of lust and desperation, _everything_. Only this time instead of it being a whisper in the air, he felt like he was going to choke on the scent. But finally, _finally_ , the words spilled over in this mind and he puzzled together the missing pieces of its name.

Berries and citrus and _danger_.

Every bit of relaxation and ease drops from his body as his muscles go taut for a fight and the haze of alcohol clears into sharp focus. He stands so fast the tray of glasses almost topple over from the table if not for Kevin’s quick reflexes steadying the table before it could tip. Kevin growls something out in annoyance but Andrew barely hears it, his body already thrumming with the need to move. He barely manages to growl out a terse “Stay,” before he pushes his way down the stairs and toward the scent. His wolf stirs in his chest, a deep growl rumbling low in his sternum as anticipation and hunger bubble in his blood. He senses full-blown furry lurking on the edges of his mind as his wolf hunts and for once, Andrew feels completely in tune with the beast. They were going to hunt this thing down and tear it to pieces.

He bounds down the steps, taking them two at a time before his boots slam on the ground and he tilts his nose in the air for a deep sniff.

Berries and citrus and danger danger danger.

A growl reverberates in his chest, this time audible for everyone to hear as strangers quickly scurry out of his way as he stalks and tracks and hunts for his prey. Then someone collides face fist into his back, nose pressing into the space between his shoulder blades as fingers spasm for purchase in his shirt. The touch is there and gone in a flash, but Andrew’s adrenaline rushes to the surface at the intrusion regardless, and a snarl readies on his lips as he spins around, fist raised to do some damage. That’s when he sees a man stumbling back — shaggy brown curls plastered to his forehead, body too thin and dressed and rags, and something smeared on his cheek.

He doesn’t fit the typical image of Edens’ patron and that should have been the first warning that something was deeply wrong, but as the man started stumbling, his hands reach out and steady him, his body moving before his mind can stop him. As he lifts the man to his feet, the full wave of his scent hits him and his hands tighten like vices around the man’s forearms.

Berries and citrus and danger.

But underneath it all, the overwhelming scent of blood and pain. That’s when he notices that the smear on his cheek is blood and that it doesn’t stop at his face. Blood soaks his shirt and drips down his arm, making his skin tacky where Andrew grips him. The growl that slips from his lips is involuntary, but it must freak the stranger out. He starts thrashing in his grip, eyes blown wide and breath quickening into a panicked state as he yanks and pulls away desperate for escape. Normally, Andrew would let go, allowing the idiot to fall to the floor and agitate whatever injuries he’s obviously accumulated and a part of him _wants_ to do just that — to shove him away and watch him run away. But another part of him, the part that the wolf controlled and ruled, wanted to shove his face into the man’s neck and just _smell_ and _claim_ and _mine_.

The shock makes him tighten his grip enough to still the man and tank him closer until their noses are only separated by a sliver of air. He wants to shake him — wants to licks the blood from his cheek and taste it on his tongue.

Berries and citrus and dangerdangerdangerdangerdangerdanger

Instead, he growls a “Calm down,” his mouth elongating slightly as sharp teeth crowd in his mouth and slur the words slightly. Only then does the man still and meet his gaze head on. Everything quiets the moment their eyes meet, the world narrowing down to that small movement as Andrew looks at the brightest blue eyes he’s ever seen in his life even with the pupils blown so wide only a ring of blue remains.

_Danger Danger Danger_

The man gasps and in the next breath he sags in Andrew’s arms as he whimpers sharply and short — the sound striking deep in Andrew’s chest and making him want to destroy and rage and protect protect protect, as fingers curl in his shirt.

“ _Help_.” Then the man goes limp.

Andrew supports his weight easily (almost too easily) while his wolf rumbles and snarls and tries to break free from the iron grip Andrew has on its control. His head is a mixture of mine mine mine and berries and citrus and danger and protect protect protect while rage and fury boil his blood at whatever inflicted the damage to the man in his arm. Eyes immediately begin scanning the dancefloor, accessing and searching for any threat lurking in the throng of people or the shadows that cling to its edges. The wolf howls for a victim to unleash his wrath, but Andrew’s arms curl tighter around the man’s limp body.

He needed to get somewhere safer, somewhere he can defend from easier so no one could catch him off guard and lay a hand on the man even further. His wolf growls in agreement at the thought, the two sides of himself seamlessly melding back into one as he hefts his new charge into his arms and carries him up the stairs and back to their booth in the VIP section. Kevin’s head perks up when he emerges from the last dregs of people lingering on the balcony and approaches the table.

“Andrew where the fuck did you go-” He stops when his eyes land on the bundle of man in his arms. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Move,” he snarls in reply and watches at the taller man scramble to obey.

Once he’s clear, Andrew shoves the man into the corner of the booth out of reach. Someone would have to either rip him or Kevin away or leap over the table to get to him and by then Andrew would have ample time to teach them why that was such a bad idea. The wolf rumbles in satisfaction at this setup and growls at Kevin to reclaim his seat as Andrew takes sentry at the other end.

“Andrew, serious what’s going on? Who is this guy?” Kevin tries again.

“Shut up and keep your eyes peeled.”

“ _For what?_ ” he huffs.

“A threat.”

Andrew returns his gaze to the floor below, scanning everything much faster from the higher vantage point that gives him a scope of the entire club. It’s only because of that he spots two figures snaking through the crowd of people on the dancefloor. A small blonder woman and a tall broad man with dark hair. They are dressed similarly, both clothed completely in black slacks and fitted button-up shirts that look like they belong more in an office than they do a nightclub. But what stands out most about them is the slight tilt of their heads as they take a deep breath of air every so often like they were smelling something. Like they were _hunting_ for something. Or someone.

_Wolves_ , he thinks as he watches them slip easily thought the people, taking extra notice of the way people instinctually shy away from them like they can sense the threat rolling off them. It reminds Andrew of how animals skitter away from predators despite not being prey, of how bloodlust lingers in their movements and stills their bodies to remain undetected from their true prey. The woman stops at the edges of the crowd and lifts her head for another sniff, her nostrils flaring before gesturing her partner towards the stairs. She smiles, blood-red lips gleaming in the darkness even at this distance.

He turns back to the table, knowing he only has a few moments before they track the scent to the table. His fingers curl into fists before creeping towards the armbands and the silver knives they hide.

“Get ready,” he warns Kevin. “We have company.”

Kevin’s head whips towards Andrew and then twists to see what threat Andrew was referring to. But Andrew hardly pays him any mind, his head already lost to the steady beat of mine mine mine and protect protect protect and _destroy_.

Later he will question the overwhelming need to shelter a man he barely met and his scent ripe with danger, but for now, he gives himself over to the desires of his would and readies himself for battle. He folds his arms over his chest and leans back on the table, face bored and calm with a sincerity he doesn’t feel. It’s not long before a head of blonde pokes up from the stairs and makes its way over, her companion following closely at her heels. She sniffs the air once more before snapping her eyes to his and smiling. This close he can see a row of white teeth stark against the red.

“Hi there,” she greets as she saunters over. “I’m looking for my friend. I think he might have stumbled in here by accident.”

Her eyes slide behind him and her face affects worry and relief. “Oh thank god you found him! We’ve been looking _all over_ for him! Some asshole clipped him with their car outside. We called an ambulance but he wandered off before they could arrive.”

She steps forward as if to reach over the table for him, “Is he okay? Oh my god, he’s passed out! I knew he hit his head, but this is bad. We need to get him to the hospital _now_.”

Andrew has to give it to the woman, she’s an excellent actress. Her voice inflects in all the right places and hits all the right tones while her brows pinch together and her mouth frowns. Even her scent comes off as disarming, a soft scent of roses sorta like from one of Allison’s perfumes. Too bad that her eyes give everything away, cold lifeless orbs reflecting none of the worry or concern her voice or actions contain.

“No.” He answers simply, shifting between her and the table. His wolf thrashed against his ribs to claw, scratch, and destroy, but he wills himself to remain still. To watch and wait.

“No?” She blinks. “What are you talking about?! _He has a concussion_ and clearly needs medical help! Move so I can-”

She moves and again Andrew intercepts.

“ _No_.”

This time her companion steps forwards, his hulking frame threatening and blank and drenched in the lingering scent of blood and rust. He doesn’t say a word but the look he gives Andrew speaks volumes. _We’re taking him and you can’t do anything about it_. And really, it’s not his fault they were arrogant enough to think they could threaten him into submission. That’s why when the man reaches past him, he wastes no time in drawing free one of his blades and slashing out, dragging the knife across his entire forearm as the man yanks it back with a snarl.

Concern melts off the woman’s face as she backs off by a few steps, revealing unkempt fury on those blood-red lips curled back in a snarl and her eyes glaring at Andrew.

“Next time I take off a hand,” he states calmly, brandishing the knife for them to see the blood drip from the blade. The man growls but the woman smiles cold and cruel.

“Oh sweetie you think you scare me?” She steps closer, “I’ve been playing with knives much longer than you.”

“Then you should know how sharp they are.” He points the blade at her.

“Oh I do, but do you?” Another step.

“Come closer and find out.”

As she moves to take another step, he tightens his grip on the handle and prepares to stab it deep in her neck the moment she gets close enough. All pretenses of humanity had slipped from her face the moment she smiled, her eyes blank and cold, the sense of threat threat threat filling the air around them, and a stillness to her body that Andrew has only seen in other wolves. She may not have sprouted claws and fur, but Andrew knew that he was facing the beast instead of the woman.

“You chose the wrong boy to pick up tonight, sugar.” She smiles and steps forward to-

“Do we have a problem here?”

Everyone’s eyes snap to the hulking figure coming to a stop just left of them. Broad shoulders and arms cross over an equally broad chest with Edens’ logo stretched across it in white text. Andrew vaguely recognizes him as one of the regular bouncers that patrol around the balcony.

Quickly tucking away the blade from sight, Andrew gives him a nod in recognition. “Nothing I can’t handle, but our guest was just leaving anyway.”

The bouncer nods back, “Good. We’d hate for someone to be bothering some of our best regulars.” He looks at the woman. “You never fuck with regulars.”

“No, no problem here.” She smiles, human mask slipping back in place once more, “Just trying to see if we could bum a smoke. I don’t suppose you have one?” She bats her eyelashes at him.

“There is no smoking in the club. Take it outside.”

“Darn. Guess I’ll have to try my luck with the smokers in the alley.” She shrugs and turns to her companion. “Come on, we’ll come back after we had a smoke break.”

Her eyes find Andrew’s as she says that last part and he hears the underlying message hidden for him. They may be leaving now but they will be back. He gives them a two-finger salute as they turn to leave, his blood still pumping for a battle and the steady hum of threat, destroy, and protect pounding in his ears as the wolf howls.

“Better luck next time.”

The smile she gives if full of teeth too sharp for any human. “Don’t need it. I always get what I want.”

And with that, they disappear in the crowd of people. Andrew turns to the bouncer. “Make sure they leave.”

The wolf howls and rages, angry that it was denied the blood it craved. That it didn’t get to sink its teeth into the woman’s flesh and tear her limb from limb for the damage she did to his _-_ He shakes his head. Not now. Not when the wolf was too close to ripping free and hunting that woman down and the threat still loomed heavy in the air. She gave up too easily — left _him_ too easily even with the parting threat. What’s her plan? What will she do? What about Nicky? Aaron? Did she smell them on him? Where are they?

Andrew whips around to Kevin. “Get the others _now_. We’re leaving.”

Kevin doesn’t hesitate before he’s nodding his head and scrambling from his seat to rush down the steps after the bouncer for Nicky and Aaron. Satisfied that his family will soon be within reach, but what then? Now he will have too many backs to protect — too many possible targets for her to sink her claws into and rip them away. He needed help.

Digging his phone from his pocket, his thumb hits speed dial before it even reaches his ear. As the phone rings, he settles himself firmly in front of the man until he’s obscured from prying eyes and safely tucked behind Andrew’s back and far from reach. Part of him wants to run a hand over his hair and smooth is away, wants to reach out and check his pulse to assure himself that he’s alive, but he keeps his hand flat on the table and waits for the line to connect.

“What the fuck do you want? I was sleeping.”

“Boohoo.” Andrew drawls. “Time to wake up old man, we have a problem.”

Wymack sighs heavily on the other end. “What did you do now you damn hellhound? I swear it better be life-threatening and not one of your little games or I’m going to lock your asses out for the night and you can sleep in the damn car.”

“You need to wake up the Calvary and get your asses to Edens. I need an escort back to the manor.” He scans the crowd, looking for any signs of blonde hair and blood-red lips.

“What the fuck? Andrew what-”

“No, shut up,” he growls, temper flaring.

_Threat threat threat_

“You wake up Wilds and Boyd and whoever the fuck else is hanging around and you get the fuck over here. _Now_.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Because I have a new resident for you.” He hangs up then, confident that will be enough to spur Wymack into action. After all, the man could never turn his back on a charity case (and this mysterious man fit the bill quite nicely). He’s proven right when his phone vibrates with a text saying they’ll be there in 30.

Andrew tucks the device away and waits for the rest of his charges to gather back around the table before making the next move. It takes several minutes but eventually, Kevin returns with a drunk and flushed Nicky and Aaron trailing quickly behind him.

“Andrew! Why are we leaving so early?” Nicky whines. “I’ve barely been dancing an hour!”

Aaron scoffs, “Like you could call that dancing.”

“I didn’t hear any complaints from any of my partners.”

“That’s because the guys you were rubbing all over were too drunk to care.”

Nicky gasps, “You take that back right now! I’m an excellent dancer. Tell him – oh! Who’s this?” 

Both Nicky and Aaron’s eyes latch onto the slumped figure poking out from behind Andrew. He stiffens, wolf snarling low at the attention they give the man. It growls loudly and snaps at him when Nicky reaches out to touch.

“ _Don’t touch him._ ”

“I was just-”

He leans forward, fangs flashing. “ _Don’t. Touch._ ”

Nicky quickly leans back, putting as much space between them as he can without sliding off the bench. “Sheesh, possessive much? I just wanted to see who he was.”

“Doesn’t matter. Get up, we’re leaving.”

He waits until Nicky slides out from the booth and stands near Aaron before he wraps an arm around the man’s waist and pulls him out behind him. Slinging one of the man’s arms over his shoulders and tucking his other arm under his knees, Andrew lifts the man so his weight slumps fully against his chest and he can maneuver him easily into a more comfortable hold.

“Wait, he’s coming with us?” Aaron asks incredulously. “ _Why?_ ”

But Andrew doesn’t offer him an answer, instead just shifting the man until his head rests in the crook of his neck so he’s less recognizable. “Follow me.”

“What the fuck? No, answer my damn question!”

He spins on them, tired of their protests and on the precipice of losing control to the wolf. “ _Now._ ”

There must be more wolf in his voice than he thought because they all bare their throats to him in deference and shut their mouths. (Even if Aaron does so reluctantly.) Satisfied that they will listen now, Andrew turns his back to them once more and starts making his ways to the bar where Roland is still serving drinks. When the man catches his eye over the other patrons, his smile grows and his eyes shine with a flirtiness that emanates from him in waves. The smile dims when he notices the man in Andrew’s arms.

“Andrew, what can I-”

“I need you to open the back office. Now.”

It’s a testament to how well Roland knows him because he nods and reaches below the counter for a set of keys, but instead of stepping out from the bar like Andrew expects him to, he tosses the keys to Nicky.

“Just make sure I get those back when you’re done.”

Nodding in agreement, he motions Nicky onward before stalking toward the swinging kitchen doors marked staff only and pushing them open with his back. He ignores the hustle and bustle of kitchen staff and barbacks racing in an out of the room and beelines for the door leading to the back hall and the office that rests at the end of it. Roland and him usually used it when hooking up since it’s the only place Andrew’s noticed has sturdy enough locks, which will give them a good enough barrier between them and the woman as they wait out Wymack’s arrival.

When Nicky unlocks the door, Andrew pushes past him and crosses the room in three quick steps towards the couch that rest on the far left. He gently lays the man out on the cushions, arranging him so he doesn’t put too much pressure on the wounds in his chest and arm. Once he’s satisfied — or rather the wolf is satisfied — that he’ll stay put, he crosses the room again and shuts the door once the last of his family trickles in, flicking the two deadbolts into place as well as sliding in the chain.

The sound of the locks engaging settle something in him, slowing the thrum of battle and the constant scent of _threat_ and blood. In here all he smells is family and that maddening scent of berries and citrus and danger.

“I called Wymack and he and the rest of the rejects will be here in a half-hour. Until then no one leaves this room.”

“But _why_ ,” Aaron challenges. “What did you do now and what the hell does _he_ have to do with it?”

Andrew ignores him. “Kevin, get Abby on the phone and tell her to prep medical. I have a feeling that we’re going to need it by the time we get back. Nicky, stand by the door and tell me if you hear any commotion or anything else out of the ordinary.”

“Don’t just fucking ignore me!” Aaron growls. “ _Who the fuck is he?_ ”

He levels his twin with a bored look. “Your newest patient. You’re going to stop the bleeding and make sure he survives long enough until we can get him to Abby.”

“And why should I?”

Andrew stills. The whole room does — Kevin and Nicky sharing furtive glances between each other, the twins, and back again. Andrew can feel the wolf snarl at rage at the _thought_ of Aaron standing there and doing nothing while the man bleeds out and suffers.

“Because if you don’t, then I’m not liable when I shift and let the wolf rip out your fucking throat.” He steps closer to his brother until they are face to face. “So I suggest you stop the fucking bleeding and you do it fast.”

Aaron stumbles, his face pale with surprise at the rare bit of rage directed solely at him for once. That makes two of them. Andrew hasn’t felt genuine anger at his brother like this for years. Not since the start of their deal when he couldn’t keep his word. Still, it must spar him into action because after a short glare directed his way, Aaron walks towards the couch and begins inspecting the various wounds the unconscious man sports.

Kevin hovers over him as he makes the phone call. “Shouldn’t those be healing on their own? His accelerated healing should have kicked in the moment he passed out.”

“He’s a wolf?”

He nods. “Yeah. The scent is faint but it’s definitely there.” He looks to Andrew for confirmation but is only met with a blank expression. “What, you can’t smell it?”

No, he couldn’t. All he could smell was berries and citrus and danger, everything else buried beneath those three scents. He doesn’t admit that to Kevin though, but rather settles himself against the wall and watches Aaron poke and prod the large gash on the man’s chest. They look like claw marks and Andrew wonders which of the duo made them. Aaron presses a hand near one of the gashes and pulls a whimper from the man’s lips. Andrew growls low and deep as he takes a step forward.

“You’re hurting him.”

“No shit,” Aaron huffs. “I have to check if he has any broken ribs.”

Another whimper, another growl.

“Then do it _carefully_.”

“Do you want to do this? Oh, wait you can’t because you don’t know what you’re doing. Now shut up and let me work.”

Andrew grits his teeth in a snarl, but remains quiet as Andrew finishes the rest of the inspection before moving to stop the bleeding with a dish towel someone had left lying around. When the blood only seeps through the cloth and soaks is a dark red does Aaron’s brows furrow.

“I can’t stop the bleeding. The wounds won’t heal enough to coagulate the blood let alone staunch the bleeding. They must have been made with something magically imbued to stop healing.”

Andrew thinks of the knives in his armbands that could do something similar to anyone he cuts. He also thinks of Renee telling him that such items were rare and had to be made by a rather powerful witch. It seems that the woman was more dangerous than he expected, especially if she had powerful enough allies to get her hands on something like that. Rather than voice any of those thoughts, he settles for growling his displeasure (or the wolf’s? He’s having a hard time differentiating between the two).

He turns to Nicky. “You have magic. Do something to stop the bleeding.”

“Woah,” Nicky hold ups his hands, “I’m only half magic remember? Even if I could somehow do that, I wouldn’t even know _how_. Abby and I haven’t got that far in our lessons.”

“ _Try_.” Andrew commands, his wolf losing patience while blood continues to seep through the cloth and soak his brother’s fingers.

Before Nicky can protest, the man begins stirring under Aaron’s hands. Weak groans and soft mumbles start pouring from his lips and his body twitches with involuntary movement, but his eyes remain closed. Not waking up, but dreaming. Andrew thinks he catches snippets of the words no and don’t and _please_ and he starts to struggle in earnest, batting against Aaron’s hold and fighting off phantom hand as they hurt him. He’s already stepping forward to move his brother off when another whimper falls from the man’s mouth. But unlike the first, this one is low and broken — a whisper like the one he made right as he asked Andrew for help.

He’s at the man’s side in a flash, shoving Aaron away and kneeling next to the couch as a hand hovers near the man’s face — _wanting_ to touch, but unsure if he _should_. The choice is taken from him when the man leans into the touch on his own, his face instinctually seeking out the contact and nuzzling into his hand. Something calms in Andrew at the contact and it must in the man as well because he sighs and sinks into the touch further, relaxing immediately. Andrew’s wolf lets loose a satisfied rumble in his chest.

Safe safe safe

Mine mine mine

“ _What the actual fuck,_ ” Aaron whispers looking at Andrew like he grew a second head. One look at the rest of his part tells him they are thinking much of the same. He could care less.

Mine mine mine.

“Now, Nicky.” He runs a hand through the man’s hair, fingers careful in case there were any injuries there as well.

“R-right!” He scurries over and keels by Andrew, hands spreading over the man’s body and faintly glowing a soft purple that often accompanies Nicky’s magic.

“Again,” Aaron speaks up, “What the actual fuck.” He turns to Kevin. “Who even is this guy??”

Andrew tunes them out. He concentrates on threating his fingers through the stranger’s hair and watching as the bleeding finally being to slow under Nicky’s magic. Part of him wants to pull his hand away and stands watch at the door because they’re not safe here, not really — not with the threat still just on the other side of the door and they’re like sitting ducks until Wymack arrives — but another part of him feels more centered than he has his entire life with his hand buried in the tangle of brown curls from a man he hardly knows.

As Aaron so aptly put it: what the actual fuck.

He’s saved from thinking about it too hard when his phone buzzes in his pocket. When he pulls it out, he’s greeted with a text informing him that Wymack and the rest are outside of the club waiting for them.

“We’re leaving,” he tells the rest. “Kevin get the door and make sure the coast is clear before we head out.”

Checking to make sure the wounds are done bleeding and that the man is no longer in danger of bleeding out, Andrew carefully slides his hands under him and lifts him into his chest. The movement causes a small whimper of pain, but it quiets as soon as he settles in Andrew’s grip and buries his nose in Andrew’s chest.

“Let’s go.” He leads them out in silence, breezing past the staff and patrons alike as he heads for the front door.

Thankfully because of the late hour, the line of people outside trickled down to a few stragglers mostly waiting for a ride or small groups talking with cigarettes tucked between fingers and lips. He doesn’t spy a familiar head of blonde, but he doesn’t delude himself into thinking they’re alone or safe. What he does see, however, is Wymack’s car parked on the curb next to Matt’s monstrosity of a truck with the owners standing on the sidewalk next to them, arms crossed and looking worse for wear in sweats and messy hair. Wymack spots him first.

“Minyard!” He barks, “You better have one good explanation for why I’m awake and here at-”

The complaint dies in his throat as his eyes dropped to the bloodied bundle curled in his arms. His gaze flips between the two, confusion clear as day in his furrowed brow and downturned mouth.

“Dude,” Matt breathes, “Is he okay?”

He makes to step forward, but Andrew holds him out of reach and turns to Wymack. “We need to leave _now_.”

Wymack sighs, “Alright, yeah. Matt, round up Dan and Renee from inside.”

Boyd flicks another look at Andrew and the man before nodding and slipping past everyone and ducking inside the club. Nicky looks tempted to go help, but a glance at Andrew has him dragging Kevin and Aaron forward until they are standing a few feet apart from him. He looks down at his arms.

“I need to go get my car.”

“Well? Go do it.”

His grip tightens and he feels Wymack stare at the gesture.

“Leave him with me. I’ll make sure nothing happens while you’re gone.” His voice is softer, boarding on gentle though Andrew doesn’t think the man could be gentle if his life depended on it.

Here’s the thing, Andrew trust Wymack. Trusts him with a lot of things, his word, his family, and even his back. But this? Andrew doesn’t want to trust him with this — with _him_. But he has very little choice in the matter, as it was either leave _him_ behind with Wymack or take his chances going it alone with his hands too full to defend himself. His grip loosens.

“Don’t take your eyes off him for a second.”

“I won’t,” he swears.

Andrew sets him down on the ground next to Wymack’s car, leaving his back so it’s supported by the wheel. He hardly stirs which Andrew isn’t sure is a good sign or a bad one, but he decides that the sooner he gets back the better. So he turns his back on him without another glance and starts off for his car, not quite running but jogging lightly while he keeps an eye peeled over his shoulder for any hidden surprises waiting for him. When the Maserati comes into view, he hits the button to unlock the car and slides into the driver’s seat in one swift move. The engine revs as he twists the key in the ignition and presses his foot on the gas, peeling out of the parking lot and making it back to Edens front door in record time. He doesn’t bother shutting the car off as he parks and jumps out of the car while making his way back around to Wymack. When he catches sights of brown curls, his wolf settles even though Andrew wasn’t aware it was agitated.

By now the rest of the team hovers around near the cars, Wilds and Renee locked in a conversation with Matt that quiets the moment Andrew steps out of the car. Wilds and Boyd look at him perplexed while Renee tilts her head in question. He ignores both even as all eyes watch as he bends to pick _him_ up once more. He wants to growl and snap at the feel of their eyes digging into his back, but he settles for throwing a glare their way before turning to his family.

“Get in the car.” He doesn’t look to see if they obey — if they don’t they can walk back for all he cares at this point — and focuses on settling _him_ in the passenger seat and strapping the seatbelt in place. When he finished and walks back around to the driver’s side, the rest have settled themselves in the back seats. _Good_.

“ _Minyard_.”

Andrew turns to meet Wymack’s eyes.

“You owe me an explanation when we get back.”

Andrew holds his gaze for a second longer before nodding and slamming the door closed behind him. He waits just long enough for the others to get int heir respective cars and start the engine before tearing down the street.

Wymack wanted answers and so did Andrew, but first, _he_ had to survive long enough for them to get him to Abby.

* * *

The drive to Fox Manor is uneventful and fast, the normally half-hour drive cut in half by how fast Andrew pushed the Maserati on the empty highway and streets. For most of the drive, he kept an eye on the review mirror, but besides Wymack’s and Boyd’s headlights, the roads were dark and empty. No tail following them as far as he could see. Still, he made sure to press a little harder on the gas and take the long way home just in case. Eventually, Fox Manor came into view and he drove the car up the drive to the main entrance and park it just below the steps.

Leaving his family to scramble out on their own, he jogs around to the passenger side and unbuckles their new troublesome resident. Abby must have heard their car pull up because the doors burst open and she runs down the steps to meet them.

“Wymack called to say that you were on your way back. Is everyone okay? I know Kevin said to prep medical but I- oh my god!” Her eyes land on the claw marks that had begun bleeding again halfway through the drive. “We need to get him to medical _now_.”

She moves to touch him — maybe to assess the damage, maybe just to check his pulse — but Andrew rips him out of reach before she can get too close, a growl emanating from his throat as his control begin fraying. His brain is in overdrive, his senses filled with berries and citrus and danger danger danger while his wolf chants protect protect protect and mine mine mine. His grip tightens and the growl grows louder the more everyone stares at him.

“Cut that shit out,” Wymack yells as he gets out of his car. “Abby is trying to do her god damn job. Are you going to let her or stand there growling like a dog hoarding a bone?”

“David!”

“What? He dragged me out of bed to help and now I’m helping.”

She shakes her head before turning to Andrew, careful to keep her distance and her voice soft. “Okay Andrew, I won’t try to touch him again, but we need to get him to medical so I can look at that wound. Can you carry him there for me?”

He nods because words have become impossible for him at this point.

“Great, just follow me and I’ll open all the doors so you don’t have to put him down okay? Just focus on carrying him without jostling those wounds any more than you have to.”

He nods again and follows her into the house and to the little medical ward, they keep in the basement for when they inevitably injure themselves. Abby guides him where to lay _him_ down on one of the beds before forcibly shooing him out of the room so she can begin her examination. He snarls and snaps but eventually, she manages to push him from the room and slam the door closed behind him. All he sees is the white paint of the door when the lock clicks into place and seals him out. He was almost impressed. Almost.

With nothing left to do but wait, he starts pacing and trying to stay the urge to tear down the door and make sure she wasn’t doing anything to hurt _him_. Which is ridiculous, Abby hasn’t hurt a fly in her entire life. She’s just trying to do her _job_ and probably saving his life. But the wolf doesn’t care. So, he paces and growls and waits for the door to open and _let him in_ which is exactly where Wymack finds him 10 minutes later.

“I’ll take my explanation now. What happened?”

Andrew pauses in his step for a second as he thinks it over. “He ran into me in Edens nearly tripped over himself as he tried regaining his balance. I steadied him, he freaked out, then grabbed my arms and asked me for help before passing out.”

He starts pacing again. That didn’t even begin to start to cover _half_ of what happened but Andrew doesn’t think he’s going to come up with a better explanation to what happened in Edens any more than that. Not when his own mind is still a haywire mess.

“And then?” Wymack arches a brow.

“ _And then_ the people responsible for doing _that_ to him showed up and I told them to fuck off. _And then_ I called you. End of story.”

“Damn it, Andrew. I asked you to start explaining things, not give me cryptic bullshit.”

He stills. “You asked me what happened. I told you. Don’t like it? Go ask Kevin, he’ll tell you the same thing.”

Wymack watches him for a long moment before sighing and backing off. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s that it doesn’t make sense. Why help him? You’re not exactly known for your charitable nature.”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. _He doesn’t know_. He just _did_.

“Does it matter? He’s here now.”

“That he is,” he agrees. “I guess we’ll just have to wait for the full story when Abby is done with him and he wakes up.”

Andrew wants to growl at that but then he remembers the danger danger danger that still lingers in his nose. As much as his wolf seemed to obsess of the man, Andrew didn’t trust him. Not when everything didn’t make sense. Who was he? Why did that woman want him? What did he do? Why was he running? Why did his scent make his wolf go crazy? Why Why Why.

Something must show on his face because Wymack lifts a hand in a placating gesture. “I’m not going to kick the poor kid out while he’s bleeding and in clear need of a helping hand, I’m just trying to figure out what it’s going to cost us to help him. Especially if we let him stay.”

Andrew’s retort is lost in the sound of the lock disengaging and Abby stepping out.

“Well, he’s stable now, but he won’t be waking up any time soon. I had to pick out bits of silver from those claw marks, but with them gone, I think it’s only a matter of time before his body’s healing kicks in and takes over the rest.” She pauses, mouth flattening in a hard, tight line and her eyes getting a far-off look. “Someone took their time carving that poor kid up. Made sure it would hurt and last while they did it too. Even without the silver put in the wound.”

She looks to Wymack. “Who _does_ that to another person? _To a kid?_ ”

His face slackens, his expression making him seem a lot older than his 30 something years he really was. “I don’t know, but we’ve got him now and that’s all that matters.”

He pulls her in for a hug and Andrew takes that moment to slip behind them through the door. The man is still laying in the bed Andrew laid him in, but now he’s hooked up to various machines that beep and monitor his heartbeat. His face has also been cleaned of any blood and a blanket has been pulled up to his neck probably to give him a sense of privacy since Abby most likely had to cut away his shirt to properly inspect the marks on his chest.

Seeing his face softened with the relaxation of sleep yet pale from the blood loss twists something in his stomach. He wants to run upstairs and curls in his own bed and forget the night ever happened — forget the weird feeling in his chest and the way he almost _craves_ the touch of this one man. His skin should be revolting at the thought, should hate the very idea of someone touching him, of wanting someone to. He also wants to bury this finger in those curls once more and wait until those blue blue eyes open and look at him one more time.

The two sides pull at him so equally that he eventually shuts down, his mind going blissfully blank. No wolf clawing at his chest, no need to touch anything or anyone, _nothing_. He walks out of the ward, away from the steady beeps of the machines, away from Abby and Wymack and away from the stranger that managed to turn his world upside down in a single night. All without another glance back. He climbs the stairs and walks to his room. He undresses. He climbs into bed and turns off the light. And then, he stares at the ceiling, thinking of those blues eyes and the scent of berries and citrus and danger still lingering in his nose. 

It’s a long time before he slips into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! It's done and almost at 10k in total for the entire first two parts. How joyous... (this is going to be a long one isn't it?) Anywho, from now own chapters will contain both Neil and Andrew's perspective, so we can see the different tensions going on with this new development between them. I'm having a lot of fun writing their POVs juxtaposed because they are just so _different_ in terms of their style and how they perceive things. This will become more apparent in the later chapters when Neil isn't concussed and panicked but just know that the words each of them use are chosen very carefully when describing some of the same sensations.
> 
> Thank you all for the love on the first part of this series! I cannot wait to read what you think of part 2 and hopefully for the rest of the story! Speaking of, Chapter two won't be out for a bit mostly because next week is chaos for me and I'm definitely in need of a small break to recover from Andreil week. Never fear though, because this story will continue and will be finished!

**Author's Note:**

> So as you may have noticed, the chapter says pt. 1. That is because this chapter was cut in half to meet the Andreil week deadline. I'll have part 2 out for you guys in the next day or so, but I wanted you to enjoy this beginning now! Happy Andreil week everyone! It has been a wild ride and I can't wait to keep on going.


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